Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm

I ended up spending the night on Avery’s bus because I missed my own curfew. He was sweet enough to sleep on the couch, leaving me to stay in his bunk. In the morning, we treated ourselves to iced coffees and croissants before I returned to my own bus, where I found a terribly hung over and pissed off Claudia.

As a sort of apology, I immediately jumped into action, working double so she could rest a bit and nurse her obvious headache. By the time four-thirty rolled around, I was tired, grumpy, and overheated, but still hard at work.

The sun was directly in my eyes as I walked to the end of the row of buses, my arms full of merchandise and bags that Claudia had asked to take care of by bringing back to the bus. Searching for a small slimmer of shade to rest in, I paused atop the cement ground, trying to shift the weight from arm to arm, and to subtly wipe away the thick sheet of sweat resting on my forehead.

“Hey, you!” someone shouted from behind me. Sighing, I turned around, only to feel something hard smash against my legs. Yelping in pain, I glanced down at my feet to see the white remnants of an egg shell, followed by a long line of yellow goo that slid down my leg. Before I could look up, another egg cracked on the top of my head.

I dropped the merchandise, trying to use my hands as a shield when the onslaught of eggs came back harder and faster, eggs flying from every direction. When they finally stopped, I was cowering behind my arms, yellow goop dripping from every exposed area of my body. After a minute, I dropped my arms in the hope that my attackers would be gone. One final egg flew straight into my face, smacking my nose and exploding upon impact. I tumbled backwards, my hands flying to my nose, tears of humiliation and pain streaming down my yoke stained face.

I must have sat on that ground for five minutes, feeling the egg dry and harden on my skin and my hair before someone found me.

“Holy shit, Holly?” I looked up at John, feeling myself choke on my own tears. He crouched down next to me, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “Sweetie, what happened to you?”

“Why me?” I sobbed, staring at my yellowed hands. “Why?”

“Holly, you’re bleeding,” he added, pulling back his hand to show me the red smeared against it. “Did they hit your nose?”

I couldn’t even get the words out, I just dropped my head to my hands and sobbed, beyond humiliated.

“C’mon, stand up,” John murmured, pulling me to my feet. “I’m going to take you to get cleaned up.”

He helped me back to his bus, shielding me from the quizzical stares at the people passing by. Helping me up the stairs, he wrapped me in a blanket stolen from someone’s suitcase (after sniffing it to make sure it was clean), grabbed his phone, and led me to the bus next door. Travis Clark tumbled from the bus, laughing, that is, until he saw me.

“Oh shit, what the hell happened, man?”

“Someone egged her,” John explained. “Can I borrow your car? I’m going to take her to Tempe so she can use our shower…”

“Yeah, dude, totally,” Travis nodded, ducking back inside. When he returned, he chucked his keys at John and handed me another towel. “I, uh, I know Sasha likes to wrap up her hair in a towels if it’s wet or something, so that it doesn’t get everywhere and the hair tie doesn’t knot it, y’know? So uh, here…”

“Thanks,” I murmured, taking it from his hands. I did as he suggested, twirling the knot of hair into the towel that flopped and brushed against my shoulders and neck. John led me to Travis’s car and helped situate myself in the front seat.

“Looks like your nose stopped bleeding,” he commented once he climbed into the front seat. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, self consciously pressing top of my finger to my nostrils to see if what he said was true. “That is good.”

[&cut]

Twenty minutes into the ride and five minutes from John’s house, I sneezed.

“Pinch it, damnit!” John shouted, staring at me, horrified. I was fanning my face and yelling about what to do, a gush of red pouring from my nose and into my mouth.

“I can’t, dabit!” I yelled. “Ib hurts!”

“I don’t care if it hurts, Holly, you’re getting blood all over the damn car!”

“Owowowowowow!”

John pulled over angrily into the driveway of a two story ranch style house, quickly running around to my side so as to help me out of the car. Placing his fingers on my nose, he hand carried me up to the front door, ringing the doorbell with his elbow.

The door opened to reveal a rather pretty woman with short, cropped hair and tanned skin that crinkled around her eyes and mouth, a sure sign she was prone to laughter and smiles.

“John, what the—”

“Hi mom, sorry for the short notice, but as you can see, we have a problem…”

As if to emphasize the issue at hand, I sneezed once more, splattering blood on her front door step. At the sight of my blood, I burst into tears, humiliated beyond belief.

“Oh John, what happened to her? Come in, lady bug, come in,” Mrs. O’Callaghan cooed, pulling me from her son’s grasp and into her own, leading me carefully into the kitchen. “Who would do this to such a pretty girl like yourself?”

“I just found her like that in the parking lot,” John explained, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know who did it or why. Holly, do you know?”

“John, don’t ask her questions, she obviously can’t respond!” Mrs. O’Callaghan chastised, shooing him from the room. “Now, I’m going to stop the bleeding and then I’ll set you up with a shower and some clean clothes, alright, honey?”

Mrs. O’Callaghan helped me onto her kitchen counter and gently tilted my head back, inspecting the bleeding. She pressed a tissue to my nose and pulled out a bag of frozen peas, pressing that carefully against my nose to stop the swelling.

“The good thing about having three boys is that you learn how to care for anything that’s thrown your way,” Mrs. O’Callaghan laughed, checking once again for more blood. “It looks like the bleeding stopped, so I’m going to show you where the shower is.”

I was led upstairs to a bathroom, where Mrs. O’Callaghan helped me untangle my hair form the towel and peel the ruined shirt off my back. Once I was under the spray of water, she gathered my dirty clothes and brought them down to the washroom, leaving me to my own thoughts.

The moment the door closed behind her, I sunk to my knees under the spray and let myself dissolve into tears. As the layer of egg washed off, it revealed red welts and bruises that were bound to turn purple by the time I fell asleep.

By the time I was fully clean, thirty minutes must have past and the water was slowly turning cold. Turning off the faucet slowly, I gingerly stepped out of the shower and blindly searched for a towel, the cloud of steam obscuring my vision. Wrapping the red and white striped towel around my body, I stuck my head out and slowly tiptoed down their hallway.

“John? Mrs. O’Callaghan?” I called, clutching the towel tightly. “Um, is anyone there?”

“My mom asked me to give this to you,” someone announced from behind me. I jumped at least a foot in the air, whirling around to face John’s doppelganger, who was holding a short cotton robe, athletic shorts that obviously belonged to a boy, a rather big black tee shirt, and a pair of socks. “I’m Ross, John’s brother.”

“Hi,” I mumbled, reaching out to take the clothes from him. “Thanks. I’m—”

“Holly Williams, I know,” he blushed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m uh, kinda a fan…”

“Oh, cool,” I nodded, embarrassed. “Well, I better go um, put these on. Thanks again.”

“No problem,” he beamed, still red. “Um, I’ll just..yeah. If you need me—or someone—I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” I nodded, clutching the clothes to my body and slowly slinking back into the bathroom. I managed to get dressed with very little issue—the mirror was completely covered by steam, so I didn’t have to look at the welts and bruises, nor the obvious bruise stretching across my nose.

I descended the stairs cautiously, the ties to the robe trailing behind me.

“There you are, sweets!” Mrs. O’Callaghan smiled, walking towards me. “Do you need anything? I made Ross give you some clothes because you look around the same height, and John’s a giant. Do they fit okay?”

“They’re perfect, thank you,” I nodded. “Um, do you by any chance have a brush or comb I can use? My hair’s really tangled…”

“Of course honey! Just follow me,” she grinned, leading back upstairs towards her own room. The walls were covered with pictures of all three boys when they were young, ranging from infantry to a framed cover of The Maine on AP Magazine. “Here you go. Why don’t you sit on the bed, and I’ll fix it for you? I don’t have any girls, as you can see, and I fear my braiding skills have been wasted…”

“Okay,” I murmured, sitting in front of her and pushing my hair back from my forehead. Mrs. O’Callaghan gently pulled my hair back and ran a brush through the tangles snares experimentally, careful so as to not hurt me.

“Your hair is going to be so soft and silky once it dries,” Mrs. O’Callaghan stated matter of factly, teasing out a knot. “When I was younger, me and my girlfriends would crack an egg in a bowl and coat our hair in it, then sit down and gossip. One of my friends used to perm her hair until it was absolutely fried, and using egg really helped make it healthy again. You’ll see, you will just love how it looks.”

She continued to chatter on about random things, telling me stories of various hair products and styles, until she paused mid untangle.

“Holly, dear, do you know who did this to you?” she asked gently, dropping her hands. I sat in silence, staring at my hands, not quite knowing how to answer. However, I caught sight of one particular bruise on my shin and it broke the damn once more. Big, fat tears rolled down my cheeks, followed by a series of rather embarrassing hiccoughs.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Mrs. O’Callaghan cooed, pulling me into a hug.

“I just never thought they would do that,” I wailed, burrowing my face in the crook of her neck. “I just…”

She let me cry for a few minutes; whispering soothing words, smoothing her hand over my hair, and patting my back reassuringly. She wiped away my tears with her thumb and handed me a box of tissues so I could blow my nose.

“It’s not even the whole issue with getting covered in egg or like, vanity,” I snuffled, blowing my nose rather coarsely, “It was just so humiliating! I mean, I know why I just don’t…does that make sense?”

“Of course,” she nodded. “What happened to you was malicious and cruel, no one deserves that. It was bound to hurt in more ways than just physical.”

“Hey mom, Holly,” John knocked on the door, sticking his head through the crack. “How you doin’, Holly?”

“She just needs some ice cream and a good meal, but I think she’ll be fine,” Mrs. O’Callaghan smiled, patting my knee. “Come on, hon, let’s get some food in your belly before you have to go back to that God forsaken tour.”

“Oh, John, Mrs. O’Callaghan, I’ve completely taken up all your time! You only see each other like, three months out of the year, and here I am taking it all up!”

“You hush, everything’s fine,” Mrs. O’Callaghan laughed. “John Skypes with us once a week so it’s not like I don’t see him. Plus, he can visit tomorrow if I really want him to be here. Now, let’s go downstairs before Shane eats everything. I swear, that boy has two hollow legs and—”

“A hollow head!” Ross shouted from downstairs. Mrs. O’Callaghan rolled her eyes and proceeded to walk down the hall towards the kitchen, leaving me and John to stand awkwardly in her room.

“Thank you for, uh…all of this,” I mumbled, picking at a hang nail. “I um, really appreciate it.”

“Hey, what are friends for?” John shrugged, draping one of his long arms around my shoulders. I smiled at the prospect of friends, bumping my hip with his and letting him lead me to his kitchen.

[&cut]

John dropped me off at my bus at eleven twenty-seven that evening, a bag of leftovers from his mother in one hand and an ice cream cone melting in the other. Waving awkwardly goodbye, I clambered onto the bus and placed the remains of beef goulash into the mini fridge, slurped my ice cream, and checked to see if Claudia was still up. Seeing her flaming red hair nestled against her pillow, I changed into my pajamas easily. Hopping into my bed, I traced the pattern of a bruise on my arm and sighed before rolling over and falling asleep to the gentle lull of the bus engine starting up.